


Monster

by TaciturnLove



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Anal Sex, First Time, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-03-05
Packaged: 2019-11-12 05:35:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18004814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TaciturnLove/pseuds/TaciturnLove
Summary: "I love you." Potter breathes the words into my ear, his stubble tickling the side of my face, breath hot against my neck.My heart twists with the emotion that those three words elicit. I think I love him too. In fact, I'm sure of it. But there is so much he doesn't know about me, about the things I have done, the things I have allowed to happen."No you don't, Potter, trust me."He looks angry for a moment as he pulls away from me."Yes I do, Draco. Don't try to tell me how I feel." It still feels weird to hear him call me by my first name, although I can't quite pin point when exactly he started using it. At any rate, I haven't been able to bring myself to call him Harry. At least not out loud."Well you shouldn't, then," my voice lowers a few octaves as I look away from his face. "I'm a monster."





	Monster

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter Universe, characters, or content (books, movies, etc) of any sort. I just like to write for fun.
> 
> This story is written from Draco's point of view solely. It takes place in an alternate universe in which some things are altered beginning from the time Draco is meant to kill Dumbledore. It alludes to some very dark themes without actually ever describing anything in detail. 
> 
> This is the first fanfic I have written in a very long time. Please forgive any misspellings/general misuse of any Harry Potter-centric verbiage or themes. I hope you lovely people enjoy!

*****NOW *****

I awake in terrible pain. My arms are bound behind me, stretched much too tight underneath the weight of my torso. My neck is craned and my head feels like bricks have been piled high on top of it. I'm cold and wet. I blink against the pain as my vision comes swimming back into focus. A survey of my surroundings reveals that I am in some sort of hut and clearly it has been raining or something because I am laying on my back in the mud.  

This is not good. I recognize the insignia on this hut wall all too well. My legs are completely asleep and I struggle for a few seconds to breathe. Sheer panic. That is the only way to describe what I am feeling in this moment. 

_FUCK FUCK FUCK_. 

The sound of someone entering the room snaps me out of my desperation. I brace myself for whatever will happen next. It's him. The relief hits me like a crashing wave. 

"Potter," I croak, a broken smile spreading across my lips. "The others?" I ask.

"They got away before you were hit." He looks defeated. His face is tracked with tears and dirt and pain. His eyes are emerald pools of sorrow. He stands tall and thin, darkness spreading from behind him before the door slams shut. I have to look away. I hear him whisper before the pain subsides and I feel suddenly clean and warm and dry.

"Draco," he says it so quietly I have to strain to hear him. My name hangs from his lips for a few moments. I consider saying something to fill the tense silence but he speaks again before I have the chance. "I have to get you out of here....they won't listen to reason…they want blood." He says the last word with a sob.

I knew this would be my fate eventually. I just didn't think it would be so soon. My heart pounds so quickly I think I might faint. He wants to save me, and I want to let him so badly that it fucking hurts me down to my very core. 

"You know you can't do that. This is bigger than me, Potter. You know that. You know you are the only one who can end this war. You know you have to be the one left standing-"

"Yes but-" he tries to argue, but I plunge forward before I lose my cool.

"-and you know this is your last chance, Potter, remember your promise." I deadpan. I'll remind him as many times as I have to if it will get him to see reason. "We can't do anything about this."

I look back up at him. Huge mistake. Tears are streaming down his face and he shakes his head vigorously. I am aching. Aching for him and for my selfish need to live and to get to love him for just a little longer.

"No. No, I can't...I can't lose you too." He takes the few strides over to me and his arms are around me in a flash. We shake together for a little while. He has lost almost everyone he loves to this war. I don't want to check off another box on that list. I knew this would happen to him. To me. I was a selfish prick and now he has to pay the price. 

Potter smells like sunshine and fresh cut grass. I want to drown in his scent and stay like this forever, wrapped up in his arms and his love, listening to his heartbeat until we fall asleep together. I don't deserve it but I want it so desperately that my heart shatters into a million pieces. This isn't fair but nothing in this war has been so far. 

I don't say any of this to him of course. I just let him hold me while he cries, allowing the tears to stream from my own eyes because honestly what does it even matter anymore? As a Malfoy I was taught my entire life that crying is a sign of weakness, but none of my father's teachings could prepare me for this moment. 

I'm staring death right in the face and I'm fucking terrified 

 

***** THEN *****

My wand is pointed right at Dumbledore. My heart pounds uncontrollably in my chest and my breathing betrays my fear. My hand shakes ever so slightly as I will myself to speak the words I know I'll never be able to say. I am just a boy. A boy who has seen too much and who has realized he is not cut out for the darkness his parents expect of him. 

He, on the other hand, is perfectly calm. He tells me that he knows the truth. He tells me it's not too late. I can come to the side of the light. I will be protected. I lower my wand. I want to believe him more than anything. He looks so genuine. With my wand lowered he doesn't move a muscle. I figure if he were lying he would have grabbed his own wand and hexed me by now.

"Okay," I say, "I want to join your side." I raise the sleeve on my left arm and show him my dark mark. I let out a sound that is not quite a sob but something close to it. He doesn't look surprised or bothered or even slightly upset. 

"It's okay, Draco." he tells me.

"How?" I’m almost demanding. "What about my family? Can they be protected?"

He is patient when he answers me. "They chose their side, Draco, but you're just a kid. The sins of the father and all that." I swear there is a twinkle in his eye. "I'm not going to lie to you, you will betray your family this way. But I can see your heart, Draco, I know you're conflicted." 

"What happens now?" I ask him. He gives me a sad smile, eyes veering from my own to a point somewhere behind me. 

"Idiot boy!" Severus is on us in a flash. He pushes me out of the way. It happens so fast but it feels like slow motion to me for some reason. He points his wand at Dumbledore, says the words I could never in a million years bring myself to utter. My ears ring with the sound of Dumbledore's lifeless body as it hits the floor. Severus is saying something to me but I can't hear anything other than this ringing. I stand there, numb, all of my hopes at possible redemption are shattered with the death of the one person who could see me for who I really am. 

Severus is grabbing me, we run together for what feels like ages. He dumps me unceremoniously at the boys’ restrooms, the closest neutral area he could find. "No one saw you, you're safe," he tells me, "but I have to get out of here." And then he is gone with a whoosh of his robes. The grease from his hair hangs thickly in the air as I swallow the lump forming in my throat. 

And then I hold back my tears so hard my eyes bulge out of their sockets from the force of it. After about 15 minutes of this torture, I'm startled as a head appears in midair right in front of me. 

Of course it would be Harry _fucking_ Potter. He looks like he's been crying. _Of course_ he would have an invisibility cloak and _of course_ he would find me here, vulnerable and a complete wreck. I decide to go ahead and let him kill me. There is no hope for me now anyways; it died with Dumbledore.                                                                                              

"I saw what happened. I know you want to join our side." Potter finishes taking off his cloak and stands tall in front of me. His eyes are piercing and his hair tangles wildly around his ears. He is all toned muscles and tanned skin. He looks beautiful. I swallow at the intruding thought before blinking away from him.

"You saw what happened..." I repeat dumbly. "I don't even know how to do that, Potter."

"I've been thinking about that...It can just be our secret. You can become a double agent. Give me information so I can kill Voldemort. And then I'll speak on your behalf when the war is over. But no one else can know right now, it's better that way. I’m not sure others would trust you. Plus, it would be the only way you won't outwardly betray your family. It will keep them safe." His words make sense, but it seems too good to be true.

"Why do you care, Potter? Why do you even believe me?"

"Because he did, and that's all that matters."

“How do I know I can trust you?" 

“You don’t.”

“Okay,” I breathe out, “I’m in.” 

We are silent for the rest of the night, but neither one of us leaves. We simply sit with our backs to the wall for a long while, so close I can feel the warmth of his shoulder next to mine. I drift into a restless sleep.  

When I awake in the morning I am alone once again.

  

***** NOW *****  

Potter presses his lips frantically against mine. His grip on my waist is tight as he ruts against my hips with his own. He has released my arms because we both know I won't be making any moves to escape. One of my hands tangles in his wild locks while the other presses into his backside. His tongue slides hotly into my mouth. He is intoxicating. Much too hot, I melt against him and allow him to take control. He presses me into the ground, finding that delicious friction that sends us both groaning. 

His cock, thick and hard, presses harshly into my own but it isn't enough. Potter senses this and begins to undo my trousers. I undo his and his prick pops free. He wraps his hands around both of our man hoods before thrusting again. I see stars as the pleasure rakes through me. I can barely stand the sight of him, pupils blown wide in arousal and face twisted in pleasure so strong he almost looks pained. 

"I love you," he moans. I can only gasp in response. I want to tell him how much I fucking love him in return. I have never been in love before him and I will never love again after. I want to tell him to find happiness when the war is over, to find someone else to love and to be true to himself. Who gives a fuck if the savior of the wizarding world is bent? Every wizard in England owes him their ass if that's what he wants. 

A lump forms in my throat, preventing me from speaking any of these thoughts. Potter is rutting more recklessly now, faster and harder and with no real rhythm. 

He looks at me and sees me entirely. "It's okay Draco, I know." Tears form in the corners of my eyes even as my orgasm rips through me unexpectedly. He is not too far behind me, moaning in wanton pleasure before collapsing on top of me. He whispers a cleaning charm and tucks me back into my clothes as I lay boneless on the ground, tears falling silently. And then he is pulling me into him. 

"I won't lose you." He whispers into my ear. He kisses the tears on my cheeks. I squeeze his hand in return as I drift off to sleep.  

We both know it's too late for that.

 

***** THEN *****

The third time that we meet up to exchange information, Potter is friendlier than usual. Since my information has checked out each time thus far, he seems to be in higher spirits. He touches my elbow briefly and leans toward me as I speak to him. We have an arrangement to meet once monthly in a secret outdoor location of his specifications. I am ashamed but his simple touch lights my nerve endings on fire. Potter is stunning. He is committed and so determined. He radiates strength and righteousness and he believes in me. It's all I could ever hope for. I'm sure that's all it is. He represents hope and freedom and a world without Voldemort in it. It's nothing more than that. 

It is much easier than I thought it would be at first, becoming a double agent, mainly because I am not in the inner circle and I don't hear a lot about big plans anyways. And it's easy to feel like I'm doing the right thing when all I witness are the evil acts taking place at the manor I used to call home. 

We talk a bit longer than usual. Potter cracks a few jokes and I smile indulgently. It's weird, how easily we get along, but at the same time it's perfectly normal. Potter's eyes flash briefly to my mouth and then back into my eyes again. He reaches out, lifts the sleeve on my left arm, exposing my dark mark. I try to pull away but he holds my arm, strokes the mark with his fingers, never breaking eye contact. It feels so good I want to swoon, but I keep my composure. 

"You have a nice smile." He says casually. 

With a crack, he disapparates, leaving me alone to ponder that sentiment.

 

***** NOW *****

Light seeps through the tiny crack under the door as I wake from a fitful sleep. I have no idea how much time has passed. I notice, with a slight tinge of sadness, that I am in a much more comfortable position than I was before Potter had found me. He must have taken the time to position me carefully before he left, and my heart wrenches at the thought. 

I see the shadows of someone's footsteps approaching. My body freezes, ice cold as none other than Ronald Weasley saunters into the room, a prideful look on his face. The other boy is tall and lanky, freckles dusted across his pale face in a haphazard manner. It looks as if someone tripped over with a bucket of paint and little droplets landed on his face carelessly. His red hair is pulled back into a tight bun. In another life, I might have thought he was attractive.

"Malfoy," he spits my name with vitriol. I am unable to say anything as he grabs me by my collar, lifting me up off the ground. His breath is putrid and there is a terrifying look on his face as he crushes me into the wall. "You fucking bastard!" He yells, pulling me forward before slamming me against the wall once again. Part of me realizes that this probably isn't 100% personal. Weasley must have lost someone important. He is blaming me because I happen to be the death eater that has been caught. The rational part of my brain understands this, but the other part, the part that is reckless, much darker and filled with deep rooted pride, wants to egg him on, to push his buttons and see how far we can take this.

"Weasley," I sputter, "as lovely as it is to see you, I feel that it is so important to remind you," he scoffs at me but I can't help myself, "although the war can be pretty distracting, we still have the responsibility of practicing proper hygiene-" he screams viscerally before fisting my hair and slamming my head against the wall. I hear the sickening crunch as my vision swims with terrible pain. For a few scary moments I am unable to breathe as he crushes my chest with his body. 

"You piece of shit coward, you fucking DEATH EATER SLIME," he starts, sounding much too loud as I gasp unsuccessfully for air. "WE ARE GOING TO KILL YOU." He laughs, easing up a little so that I may take in a few mouthfuls of air. "We are going to make an example of you, Malfoy. I'm going to LOVE every second of it." He backs off entirely and I fall to the ground, landing harshly onto my left shoulder. With my arms bound behind me, I am unable to move gracefully, so I choose not to move at all. 

"Enjoy your last few hours, Ferret." With those words, he is gone in a flash. I unceremoniously wiggle about until I am at least in a position that doesn't  _hurt_  so goddamned much. I struggle to breathe for a few more seconds, willing my heart to slow down its treacherous pounding around my rib cage. My worst fears have been confirmed. And although I knew from Potter's face the night before that this would be what awaits, there had been a tiny part of me that had hoped maybe it wouldn't come to this.  

Nothing to do but wait now. 

 

***** THEN *****  

"Potter," I greet him warily. 

"You're late." He looks almost worried about me. I shake that thought away. He probably just doesn't want his time to be wasted. We've been at this for 8 months now, and this is the first time I haven't made it on time. He should really cut me some slack. 

"It's getting harder to sneak away....Voldemort knows there is a rat among us. He doesn't suspect me, at least I don't think he does."

He takes a step forward at that, and now the look of worry is unmistakable. I swallow thickly, my heartbeat quickening as he takes yet another step toward me. 

"I've been thinking lately, Malfoy," he starts. He is so close to me that I can feel his breath on my neck. He looks determined and there is a darkness about him that I hadn't noticed before. It scares me. I am not one to back down, however, so I square my shoulders and look down my nose at him. I still have an inch or two on him so at least there's that. 

"I'm surprised you have the ability," I tell him, but it sounds too friendly even to me. He gives a slight chuckle at that.

"Oh not only do I have the ability, Malfoy, but I'm a lot more perceptive than you think." His smile is saccharine and I suddenly feel my reserve slipping. "This war, it's made me realize a lot about myself and about what I want..." 

"Out with it, Potter!" I snap, the dread pooling into my heart with alarming quickness. 

"I see the way you look at me, Malfoy," he says, voice laced with something unrecognizable.  I shut my eyes involuntarily.  

_Shit._  

Have I really been so transparent? I steel myself for whatever will follow, as I am too tired to deny him the truth. I feel two fingers, firm and strong, touch my chin. I almost lurch at the touch, forcing myself to meet his gaze.

"It's okay, Malfoy," his fingers glide, feather light, up around the side of my jaw and to the back of my neck. I feel his palm flatten on my skin there, as his fingers tangle into my hair. "I like it," he whispers, seconds before crashing his lips into mine.

Our first kiss is fierce and passionate and everything that I have ever imagined it would be. We moan and pant into each other’s mouths, hands touching whatever skin we can reach. Minutes go by before he breaks the kiss, a wild look in his eyes. 

"Don't be late again, Malfoy." He says simply.

My grin is wide as I disapparate without a word in return.

 

***** NOW *****

I'm not sure how much more time has passed before Potter comes back into my room. He hisses when he sees me. "What have they done to you?" He whispers frantically.

"Your Weasel friend paid me a visit." I chuckle with no humor as he rushes to me. "What are you doing here in the light of day, Potter? You're going to get caught." He takes his wand out and with a swish my pain subsides.

"Draco," he starts, and the look on his face is one I have come to recognize all too well. He feels guilty about something. My heart sinks into my stomach as I find the courage to continue looking into his eyes. "Please don't be angry with me..."

"What have you done?" I ask, hands going numb.

"I refuse to let you become another victim of this war." He says, chin jutting outward as he stares me down determinedly. If my arms were free I would punch him with all my might. As it were, the only thing I can do is head-butt him, which he easily deflects before backing up smartly away from me. 

"What have you done?!" I repeat, louder this time in the hopes he will give me a straight answer. 

"I've contacted the Aurors...they'll be here in a few minutes." The sting of betrayal is so strong that I am forced to take in a shocked breath of air. 

"You..." An animalistic cry escapes my mouth before I have the chance to stop it. "How could you?!" I am furious. My body begins to shake with rage as angry tears threaten to spill over. 

"It will be okay," he starts, "I promise, Draco, please listen to me..."

"You can't make that promise when you've already broken one!" I yell at him. I’m only getting started. "You KNOW they will find out about EVERYTHING. You know Voldemort will KILL my mother and father! Why would you do this? You KNOW HOW IMPORTANT THEIR SAFETY IS TO ME!" I scream with such force that I am certain someone outside of the walls of my puny room has heard me. 

"I'm going to talk to them Draco, I'll make sure none of the information gets out to Voldemort. Please, Draco, they'll have to believe us because everything else you have ever told me has been helpful. You won't be able to lie under Veritaserum." He is pleading, on his knees before me. I want to slap him and hurt him and scoop him up in my arms at the same time. But this, this is too painful, too much of a betrayal for me to back down.

"They won't believe me. I’m a Death Eater, and no amount of Veritaserum will ever change that." 

"Draco, please, I love you. You have to trust me on this-" he tries to draw nearer but I fumble away from him.

"I will _NEVER_ forgive you!" The tears are finally spilling.

"I won't let anything happen to you. Your parents chose their side, remember? You don't deserve the death that my friends wish to inflict on you." His voice is quiet, growing into a whisper at the last part as Aurors swarm around me. "I am going to talk to them, they'll listen, I promise." 

"Draco Malfoy, you are under arrest by order of the Ministry..." Someone is saying in the background. 

 I can't take my eyes off of Potter, even as I feel the sinking feeling of disapparition twisting in my gut. 

 

***** THEN *****

The next time we meet, Potter is on me before I even have the chance to say a word. I am late yet again, an excuse on the tip of my tongue. The look in his eyes is furious, just before he leans in. And then we are kissing and touching and undressing each other under the storm darkened sky.  

Potter gets onto his knees before me. I am in awe of him as he dips his head, taking my cock, hard and wanting, into his mouth in one swift motion. There is nothing tender in the way he grabs my backside, nor the way that I tangle my hands into his hair. I can see his cock, stiff and leaky as it presses up against his flat stomach, and it's almost too much to bear. He licks and sucks with abandon. The pleasure wraps around me in warm tendrils as I buck helplessly into his mouth.  

I try my hardest to hold out, to make this moment last. It has been a shitty month of being forced to watch as other Death Eaters do unspeakable things to innocent muggles and muggleborns alike. The moments where I get to see Potter, to feel like I am making a difference, like everything will be worth it in the end, are much too fleeting. And now, I haven't been able to think of anything but our kiss. There is a hope within me, ever present, that it isn't just the war that makes him reciprocate my desires. That maybe, just maybe, when this is all over, we can be together out in the open. I know it is probably too much to ask, given everything I have done, will continue to do before the war is over.

"Potter," I warn, seconds before my orgasm rips through me. I try to pull away but he holds me in place, swallowing down my cum like it's the most delicious thing he has ever tasted. My knees threaten to buckle out from under me. He pulls away, wipes his mouth with his hand, and flashes me a grin. His lips are red and swollen, eyes sparkling with something I can't recognize. I am almost hard again from the sight of him. With determination, I push him onto his back on the ground and return the favor. When he climaxes, I realize that maybe my cum  _had_ been the most delicious thing he'd ever tasted, because I feel the same way about his. 

He surprises me when he grabs me by my shoulders and pulls me up into his arms. We lay in a tangle of sweat and heat as the clouds finally give way to raining down on us. He laughs, the sound of it bringing a smile out of me. 

"At least it started after we both finished." He smiles, before nuzzling his face into mine. I wrap my arms around him tightly. It is there, wrapped around each other underneath the stars, that he tells me of someone he had lost to the war earlier in the day. He goes on to tell me more things I never knew about him. About his childhood and the shitty family he was forced to live with. About others he has lost to the war. He admits to me how much he worries for his friends. 

"They've become dangerous," he sighs, carding his hands through his tangle of curls. "They are operating outside the grid, not following any rules. Calling themselves the "light-bringers." I fear they are lowering themselves to the level of the Death Eaters." He flinches a little, casting a furtive glance at the mark marring my left arm. I shrug helplessly. It hurts but he's not wrong. He reaches out, fingers gently caressing the mark as I shudder beneath his touch, trying desperately not to pull away. I know it's his way of trying to sooth the burn. "I do my best to keep them in check, but I'm losing my grip."

"It's not your job to keep them in check." I reply, "go easy on yourself, Potter. You're doing the best you can." His shoulders seem to sag in relief at that. I change the subject by telling him some things about my childhood, of some of the more mild things I have been forced to do as of late. He looks at me without judgment, and it is all I can ask for.

Later on, when he disapparates before my very eyes, my heart stings with the pain of it.

 

***** NOW *****  

I sit in a holding room with two nameless Aurors across from me. My arms remain bound behind me, stinging with pins and needles. One of the Aurors, the male, clears his throat, accomplishing in getting my attention. In front of me on the table is a small vial filled with a clear liquid. The female Auror attempts a smile as she picks up the vial.

"You must be very scared," she starts, and I am, in more ways than she could ever imagine. "But we want to help you. Your friend, Harry, has told us some things about you that make a great case for pardoning you. But we need you to cooperate with us, okay Draco?"

I nod dumbly. There is no fighting this. Everything is already out in the open. She brings the vial to my lips and I spread them open easily, allowing her to tip the bitter liquid into my mouth. I swallow, coughing slightly as it burns its way down my throat. 

"What is it that you would like to know?" I ask. 

"Please tell us the nature of your relationship with Harry Potter." She starts. I open my mouth, fully intending to tell them I am a double agent who has been reporting to him for well over a year. But instead, what comes out is- 

"I'm in love with him." The Aurors sputter a bit, with the female glancing over at the double mirror briefly before looking back at me. I realize that Potter is most likely behind that glass, watching. It isn't anything Potter didn't already know, but I have never said as much out loud to him before. I take a deep breath and begin to elaborate. "I mean, that's not all. I have been sharing information with him in order to help the side of the light."

"And when did you begin this relationship with Potter, as a double agent, I mean?"

And just like that, my secrets spill out for all the world to see, one by one. I explain to them why we never told anyone what we were doing, to protect my family at all costs. I tell them each and every bit of information I ever shared with Potter in order to circumvent horrible attacks and minimize damage. I tell them about the things I have been forced to do or turn the other cheek away from. I have hurt people, tortured them, stood aside as innocent victims were tortured and murdered. I beg them to throw me in a cell in Azkaban, it’s what I deserve and more. I beg them to make it look like I died so that the Death Eaters don't catch wind of my betrayal. I stress the importance of this next attack that has been planned, that it could be the end all to this war. It might just be the last chance for Potter to kill Voldemort once and for all because Voldemort plans to actually be present. I stress that if Voldemort finds out that I am alive and being held captive, he will most certainly cancel this attack.

"We will do what we can to protect you, Draco," the female Auror says, when it's all said and done, "we can put you in a holding cell in Azkaban and remain as tight lipped about your capture to the press as we can. We can't throw you in a permanent cell without a trial, though, so a holding cell is the best we can do. We will keep it under wraps so no one should be able to find you. We will allow Mr. Potter to say that he and his band of misfits killed you when they captured you." She smiles sadly at me before flicking her wand to remove my bonds. I am surprised by the kindness I have been treated with.  

"Will I be pardoned?" I ask her, feeling disgusted at the amount of hope my voice is laced with. She flashes another sad and sweet smile. 

"That remains to be seen." I can read between the lines of that statement. If the information I have shared about this next attack checks out, then I'll be pardoned. They know I am the only double agent who has held true to their side; all others have betrayed them. This truly is their last shot at having the upper hand on the dark side. If I haven't betrayed them like all the others, I will be pardoned. Do I even deserve to be pardoned? Probably not, but I hang desperately to the idea that I could live a somewhat normal life after this war is finally over.

I can only hope that Voldemort wasn't feeding me misinformation about his plans.

 

***** THEN *****  

"I love you." Potter breathes the words into my ear, his stubble tickling the side of my face, breath hot against my neck. We've just finished having sex for the very first time. It was messy and awkward, and although we were both nervous wrecks, it was the most amazing moment of my life.  

My heart twists with the emotion that those three words elicit. I think I love him too. In fact, I'm sure of it. But there is so much he doesn't know about me, about the things I have done, the things I have allowed to happen. 

"No you don't, Potter, trust me."

He looks angry for a moment as he pulls away from me.

"Yes I do, Draco. Don't try to tell me how I feel." It still feels weird to hear him call me by my first name, although I can't quite pin point when exactly he started using it. At any rate, I haven't been able to bring myself to call him Harry. At least not out loud.

"Well you shouldn't, then," my voice lowers a few octaves as I look away from his face. "I'm a monster."

I hear him suck in a breath before he pulls me close again. "You are not a monster, do you hear me? You are doing what you have to. Your heart is in the right place. I don't care what you've done. Nothing will be able to change my mind."

He looks at me expectantly. I don't want this moment to be ruined but the alarm bells are going off in my head. "Potter, I need you to promise me something." My gaze is open and vulnerable as we stare at each other underneath the moonlight. 

"What is it?"

"Promise me that, if it comes down to it, you'll do what is necessary to end this war." The look on his face confirms that I have, indeed, ruined this moment. 

"What does that mean, Draco? Why are you always so cryptic?" He shakes his head, and I can tell that he knows exactly what I mean. 

"If it comes down to it, you'll kill me or let me die to protect our secret." I explain to him slowly, as though he is an idiot, because I can't help my self-destructive behavior. Chalk it up to pride or something, but I have always been this way. 

"Malfoy," he says darkly.

I don't have to describe to him the gravity of our situation, but I do it anyway. "We both know that you have to win this war, Potter, and my life isn't worth the loss of countless others'. I'm just saying, don't let your emotions get in the way of our mission. If it comes down to it, you kill me, or you let me die." 

His Addams apple bobs as he ponders that information. But still he says nothing.

"Promise me," I repeat. 

"Alright, Draco, I promise." 

 

***** NOW *****  

The holding cell in Azkaban is dark and damp, with a sort of chill that seeps through my skin and wraps itself around my organs. It is barren save for a tiny, wooden cot that sits in a corner somewhere behind me. I sit on the ground with my knees up, arms wrapped around them in an effort to keep warm. In the back of my mind, I can hear father's voice chastising me for sitting in such a vulnerable position. For showing weakness. But unfortunately, I have no fucks left to give. 

It feels like hours have passed before my cell door opens, the light hurting my eyes as it filters in. It's Potter, of course. He walks over and gets down on his knees before me.

"They let you in here?" I ask stupidly. He gives me a sheepish look. " _Of course_ they did." I mumble, drawing a slight chuckle from him. 

"Draco..." he starts, reaching out for me. I allow him to. His hand lands softly on my knee and he gives me a gentle squeeze.

"Well Potter, now you know everything. Hence," I wave my arms around as if introducing myself to him for the very first time, "monster." I finish lamely. I try to play it off but deep down I'm terrified that he will decide I'm too fucked up, I've done too many horrible things for him to possibly still love me.

"Yeah, but you're _my_ monster." He smiles. "How'd you know I was watching?" At my lack of response, he continues. "Well it's done. I told the prophet we killed you right there on the field."

"And your friends?" I ask. He blanches at me. I don't even know if he considers them his friends anymore. 

"It worked. They are all back at Hogwarts. They don’t understand entirely what is going on, but they trust me. The Aurors are with them...and we will be ready." I nod, taking in a deep breath.

"I guess we will know by tomorrow if he still trusted me." I say grimly. The hand on my knee squeezes tighter before he pulls me into a bone crushing hug.

"It will be okay." He says into my hair. 

"I swear, Potter, if this doesn't work....if my parents die because of me... if we lose our one opportunity..." It's too painful to finish that sentence.

"They won't," he shakes his head, "we won't...this plan is iron tight, and the Aurors have been really supportive." He nods, as if he is trying to convince himself. Then he looks determined before he says, "like I said before, Malfoy, I won't lose you." And it's enough for now. My anger is mostly deflated anyways, and all that's left is a sort of tired indifference. I've done enough, I think. It's out of my hands. 

"Well then, do me a favor, Potter," I tell him. He pulls away enough to look me intensely in the eyes. He looks a little put off. I guess my requests so far have been very unpleasant. 

"What is it?" He asks me. 

"Don't die." I am so serious it's painful. My eyes are pleading with him.

"I'll do my best, but I can't make any promises." He tells me, trying to smile. I can see he is holding back tears. 

"Good thing then, because you're rubbish at keeping promises," I hope my joke is enough to break the tension and it is. He laughs before crushing me back into his arms for a breathless kiss. 

When he leaves again, the cold emptiness I feel is unbearable.  

 

***** THEN *****  

Potter flashes me a gleaming smile before rushing me and pushing me up against a tree. It is always like this. He is rough with his desires and then tender in the afterglow. We complement each other well this way.

We have decided once a month simply isn't enough, so we have been seeing each other twice a month instead. We know it is more dangerous this way, but neither one of us wants to say so out loud. Voldemort has finally allowed me into his inner circle, and the information I provide has become more crucial as of late. This is the excuse we use for the increase in visits, but we both know the truth: we can't get enough of each other.

His teeth sink into my collar bone and I can't help the moan that rips out of me. My wrists are pinned above my head by his hands, and his body is pressed flush against mine. He bucks into me, groaning as his tongue licks the bite wound he has just created. I am drunk with his scent and his warmth and his taught hardness against me. I live for these moments. This is what helps me get by on the days where it gets to be too much. 

Potter backs away just enough to disrobe me, and my hands mirror his actions on his own clothes. He pushes me roughly so that I land on my back on the wet earth beneath me. Wildflowers surround us, the scent sickly sweet in the damp air as I gasp for breath. He pulls a small bottle out from his robe pocket and opens it. I watch, mesmerized, as he tips clear liquid onto his fingers. Potter then proceeds to stretch himself wide open above me. He gasps with pleasure and I almost come undone. My hands are on whatever bit of skin I can reach. I am rock hard beneath him as he tips the lubricant over my cock, slathering from tip to base.

He impales himself on my cock in one swift, breathtaking motion. We both cry out at the force of it. I lose control in this moment, flipping us over so that he is on his back with his thighs wrapped around my hips. I kiss him hungrily, moving my hips in a steady rhythm. I thrust my cock deep and then pull back almost entirely before slamming into him again and again. His hands are tangled in my hair as he murmurs words of encouragement against my lips.

"Yes, Malfoy, just like that...fuck...so good." His words spur me on; his tongue is hot velvet again my skin. I reach between us to grab his prick, hard and weeping as it lays stiffly against his stomach. He grunts at the contact, head falling back onto the ground. My mouth follows him, kissing down his neck to his collarbone, and then down to his nipples as I pump his cock harshly. His nails rake down my shoulders as he moans shamelessly. 

"Draco," he gasps, "fuck, I'm gonna cum..." I feel the hot spurts of liquid as his cock twitches in my fist. A few more thrusts and I fall apart on top of him.  

It's afterward, as we lay in a heap of tangled limbs on the ground, that I become very serious. I have some information that could completely change the outcome of the war. It won't be a pleasant conversation, and I know it will absolutely ruin our moment. I am _so tired_ of ruining moments. 

"Potter," I whisper into his hair. He hums in response, his fingers brushing softly on my chest, swirling in some unknown pattern. He is everything to me in this moment. I squeeze him a little tighter and brace myself for what lies ahead. "It's about the war..." I say lamely. He stiffens and dislodges himself from my arms. 

"Draco, what is it?" He asks, looking down at me. The sun is setting, casting soft shadows among the trees surrounding us. Streaks of sunlight dance across his ashen face as he studies me.

"Voldemort is planning to send scouts nearby tomorrow. He has an idea of where you and your friends are located, but thanks to me, doesn't know exactly where you are and is tired of coming up short. But the idea is to scare you off, have you retreat to Hogwarts. He has connections there that will allow him past the wards...and then he's coming for you, Potter. He will be there himself."

Potter stares at me. "Will you be scouting?" He asks finally. 

"No, I haven't been assigned to do that. But I will most likely be part of the attack on Hogwarts. Just remember, Potter, do what you have to when the time comes." 

He sucks in a breath. "Okay." He says. 

"Okay?" I mirror stupidly. I was expecting a bit more fight than that. But maybe Potter is tired of waiting, too.

"I'll make sure that we do go to Hogwarts, and when he comes for me, I'll be ready." He stares grimly toward the distance. I wish so much that it didn’t have to be this way. I want to tell him that I love him and that he’d better be careful.

Instead, I pull him back down and wrap my arms around him once again. 

 

***** NOW *****  

I wait for what seems like another eternity for Potter to come back for me. When I do sleep, it's riddled with nightmares- my parents dying, Potter dying, being thrown in Azkaban for the rest of my life, etc. I haven't bothered to sleep on the cot, as the ground seems to retain just a bit more heat. Every once in a while someone comes in with some food and drink, but I don't feel hungry or thirsty. When I ask for any updates, I am told someone will come fill me in when the time is right. 

I'm being kept in the dark, literally and figuratively. It's infuriating but I don't have the energy to complain. I just sit and continue to wait. I'm tired. I'm terrified. There is nothing for me to do. Things are flashing through my mind at lightning speed. Things I should have said to him, things that I shouldn't have said. It's all too much and the waiting is almost unbearable. I am a tight knot of anticipation, ready to snap at any moment. 

So when, _finally_ , someone does come for me, my heart sinks. It’s an Auror, and not Potter. I notice it's the same female one that initially interrogated me. She looks a little sad, which frightens me, but smiles softly when she enters my cell.

"Draco," she starts, "I wanted to let you know that you have officially been pardoned. Your information was correct and very useful to our cause." Her small, well-manicured hand reaches out to me. I clasp it with my own and allow her to pull me up haphazardly. This is good news. I should be relieved. So why do I feel so gutted? 

"My...my family?" I ask when she doesn't continue speaking. She pauses to look at me. There must be something in my eyes that spurs her on to answer me, although I can tell she is uncomfortable. 

"Lucius Malfoy was killed in battle. And as for Narcissa, she...well she fought alongside the Aurors. She is alive, although a little banged up, but nothing too serious." She tells me. I blink in surprise. It hurts that father is dead, but the sting is not as bad as I thought it would be. He is the reason my family was caught up in this mess in the first place. He died thinking I was on his side, that I died for his cause. And as for mother...well...that is the last thing I ever would have expected from her. 

"Wait...my mother she...what?"

"She came to our aide in the final battle. She blamed V-V- the dark lord for your death....she wanted revenge. But it's enough for her to possibly be pardoned as well." 

"Does she know I'm alive?"

"She does now, yes."

"And what about...?" I trail off. My hands begin to sweat as her face takes on that sadness it had when she first came in.

"Harry?" I nod. "Well he...that is to say..." Oh no. I can't bear this. Why is she hesitating?

"Is he...?" I can't even finish the question. The thought is too excruciating.

"We've done all that we can… it's up to him now as to whether or not he wants to wake up." 

 

***** THEN *****

The cold wind whips savagely against my hair and neck. I'm dressed in my full Death Eater attire, complete with mask and hood. I've been assigned, last minute, to scout detail. The Death Eater who should have been here in my place was killed last night during a routine raid for supplies (victims). Voldemort decided it was a sign I was ready for more responsibility. The look on my mother's face was heartbreaking. She and father tried to volunteer to go in my place but I stopped them, telling Voldemort I was so grateful while reassuring my mother it would be okay. I couldn't risk them being hurt or possibly running into Potter. Voldemort's pleased expression was revolting. 

Since I wasn't able to warn Potter of the reassignment, my only hope is to be able to survive this encounter unseen. There are two other Death Eaters with me, both of them determined and grim as we move about in search of Potter and his friends. We've been ordered to try and find them, and to attack if we do but only lightly. The idea is to scare them off and push them back to the safety of Hogwarts.  Even if we were to find their camp it would be stupid to attack so many people at once.  

But Potter knows we are coming. We are ambushed by about five light-bringers. I recognize Ron Weasley, Dean Thomas, and Seamus Finnegan right off the bat, but can't really catch a good view of the other two. One is most certainly a female, the other male. I'm fighting only to survive, taking care not to hurt anyone too badly. My fellow team mates fall into step behind me as I try to lead them in the opposite direction of where I know the camp to be. I figure the best way for me to survive is if we don't find Potter and his camp. But the other side is too fast, they descend upon us quickly. 

We are all running in a daze, trying to get a grip so that we can disapparate but we need to get ahead by at least a few seconds so we can concentrate. I'm looking back at a teammate, the one in charge, as he orders us to spread out and find safety so that we can get the hell out of dodge, when I run into something solid. I bounce back from the collision, wand bared, but quickly realize it's Potter staring up at me. 

_Fuck._

He recognizes me almost instantly. I curse the wind for dislodging my hair from where it was neatly tucked in place underneath my hood. His wand begins to lower and he shakes his head. 

"Potter!" I hiss, "They’ll see you, please!" My eyes plead with him. He just needs to attack, it can be the stupidest spell and I won't dodge it. I'll take one for the team but he needs to just fucking _work_ _with me_. 

"Draco..." he says. He is frozen in place as his teammates surround us, drawing nearer. I see the female is Granger, coming in hot and fast, wand at the ready. I raise my wand again in an attempt to spur Potter into action but he does nothing, just looks at me resolutely. I have to think. For a second I consider attacking him, if only for appearances, but I don't get that chance as Granger's stunning spell hits me square in the chest. 

Potter's sullen face is the last thing I see as the darkness surrounds me. 

 

***** NOW *****  

By the time I get to visit Potter in his room at St. Mungo's, The Prophet has already published a story about us. I've been held back from seeing him for a few days with all sorts of court proceedings and paperwork. Who knew being pardoned could be such a tedious endeavor?  The Prophet story depicts a torrid love affair in which I am somewhat heroic, if a bit misguided. It talks about my good deeds and how I ultimately had a hand in helping Potter defeat Voldemort. It talks about Potter's ability to see the good in everyone, his willingness to give me a chance against all odds. It even mentions my mother very briefly. I scoff at the article, but butterflies are raging inside my stomach at the thought of being outed for all the world to see. I wonder what Potter will think about all this if -no _when_ \- he wakes up.

It's been a week since the final battle. It was down to Potter and Voldemort, and while obviously Potter did win, he sustained really serious injuries. Healers had to place him under a magically induced coma for three days in order to save him. But when they ended the coma, he stayed unconscious. It was up to him now, the healers said, although his vitals did look promising and he has been growing stronger with the passage of each day.  

I had visited my mother first. She chastised me for doing all of it alone, but I could see a proud glint in her eyes. She confessed to me that everything she did was to protect me, and once I was gone she didn't care whether she lived or died. She wanted to find Potter herself and kill him for what he did to me. But she knew it was a losing battle when they arrived at Hogwarts to have the Aurors and light-bringers waiting for them, so she took her anger out on Voldemort and the Death Eaters instead. My father was very brave, according to my mother, and he died valiantly.  That was another last straw for her, just one more reason to join the side of light. When she found out I was alive, it was all she could ever hope for. She asked me if the prophet article was true. I answered honestly because I was tired of lying and tired of hiding things from her. I admitted I wasn't sure what would happen now. She kissed me on the cheek and told me to go to him. 

Now, I sit on a chair next to Potter's bed in the sterile, much too white and bright room. My left hand holds his at his side, while my right idly flicks through The Prophet as it lays balanced on my knees. I'm not sure how long I sit there. I've gotten so good at waiting these past few weeks that it barely phases me now.  

At some point Weasley and Granger visit. It's horribly uncomfortable for all of us. They stare at my hand over Potter's for way too long. Granger clears her throat and gives Weasley a pointed look. He responds by giving her a pained expression and then looking at me gravely. His apology is stilted, rehearsed, but in the end I nod my acceptance to him, citing that he couldn't possibly have known. His shoulders seem to sag in relief at that. Granger thanks me with tears in her eyes, sputters out her own apology, even attempts an awkward hug, all of which I allow her to do. I tell her it's okay, and then I thank them both for looking out for Potter. And while I don't agree with all the methods the light-bringers used during battle, they were the only group that really seemed to get anything done. 

There is a moment of tense silence as each of us marvels at the idea that I could ever thank anyone for anything. Let alone Potter's little sidekicks.

"Why don't you go rest for a bit? Ron and I can sit with him." Granger offers, but it seems halfhearted. She just looks much too tired. Her hair is pulled back in a loose pony tail, bits of frizzy fringe escaping here and there in long wisps around her face. There are dark circles under her tear-stained eyes, and her face is gaunt and pale. 

"That's very kind of you," I start, "but I want to be here when he wakes up." More uncomfortable silence. And then-

"Will you let him know we were here?" Granger asks. I nod, and they shuffle out of the room, whispering to each other in hushed tones. I'm a bit annoyed that his friends aren't more insistent about staying with him, but I remember Potter mentioning at some point that it felt as though they had drifted apart. I guess this must be what he meant.

More time goes by. As I have more time to think I become increasingly anxious. What will Potter really think of all this, of being outed by a sleazy magazine with an even sleazier writer? Was he even planning on making our relationship public knowledge? Do we even have what could be considered a relationship? Now that the war is officially over, he can probably go back to his life as it was before. We could go our separate ways and chalk it all up to a tense situation. I mean, of course two boys would fuck each other to relieve stress during a scary, uncertain time, right? And what if Potter realized after all that my crimes are unforgivable? That I am just an unworthy monster incapable of being loved?

My heart breaks at the seams as my mind races with these horrid thoughts. I'm so caught up in these terrible thoughts that I don't even realize there are two vibrant green eyes staring at me. He seems thoroughly pleased to find me sitting across from him.

"Hi," he says it so softly it's almost a whisper. Yet I can't help but jump out of my skin from the surprise. I clutch at my chest and try to pick myself up off the floor in a grateful manner. 

"Sorry," he says with some concern. He tries to move but flinches with pain. 

"Don't apologize," I tell him, pushing him back down on the bed and grabbing his hand again, "you just caught me by surprise..." He smiles crookedly at me. "How are you feeling?" I ask.

"My head is killing me....but otherwise fine." He says. I stare awkwardly at him for a second.

"Good. Your friends stopped by to check on you." He nods. 

"How long have I been out?" 

"About a week..." he takes in a sharp breath and nods again. 

"Do you uhm...remember what happened?" I ask him.

"Yeah. I kicked ass." He jokes. We both chuckle lightly. He grips his head with one hand. "Ow." Our fingers remain interlinked, however, and it's something I am very aware of.

"Maybe you shouldn't laugh right now." I joke. My smile is wide and he returns it in kind. Then his eyes shift over to the Prophet laying on the ground.

"I hope they made me look good." He says.

"When do they not?" I answer. I am nervous at the prospect of him finding out what has been said about us in it. My breath catches a bit as I steady myself. Like a band aid. I should just tell him. Instead I continue to stare at the offending magazine in tense silence. 

"Did they make you look good, too? I swear if Skeeter messed this up..." he trails off and I look up at him in surprise.

"Wait...what?"

"Well after I visited you in your cell I realized that if I did die, you would most likely spend your life in Azkaban. So I sought out the Prophet, promising exclusive details in exchange for them keeping it a complete secret and delaying the publishing until after the battle. I knew that with that article you would have to be pardoned no matter what."  He says it so nonchalantly, as if we were only discussing the weather.

I am flabbergasted. So many emotions are exploding within me at once. I open my mouth to speak, shut it, and open it again only to leave my jaw hanging there in complete shock. It is all suddenly becoming clear to me. Potter risked everything for me. Even after finding out the truth about what I've done, he felt I was worthy of saving. Even though it meant compromising his own safety and the possibility of finally defeating Voldemort, he wanted to make sure I would be okay no matter what.  

He seems to take my silence the wrong way because he then says, "I know, it was risky and stupid... and I know I put the mission at risk, but I just-" 

"No, please don't apologize, I uh...thank you, Potter. I can't believe you did that for me. After everything...I wasn't sure...well I mean..." I trail off idiotically.  

"Draco," his tone is deadly serious, "listen carefully to me, because this is the last time I say this to you..." I force myself to look into his angry emerald orbs, and will myself to stop shaking. "You are a _GOOD_ person who is worthy of love. You have done right in this war. It wasn't easy and you had to do some things in order to survive, but it was not your fault. I love you, Draco Malfoy, and I'd love to try and have a normal, public relationship with you. That is, if you'll still have me."

I am so happy I think my heart will burst. My smile is wide and bright as I stare at him indulgently. A mediwitch enters the room and murmurs something softly as she runs some diagnostic tests and checks Potter's vitals. She remarks how everything is looking good, begins to say some other things quietly. But he doesn't miss a beat. His eyes are on me and only me, waiting for my response.

"I would really like that... _Harry_."  He pulls me into a bone crushing hug, and I notice there are tears in his eyes. His hand tangles in my hair and for a moment we just breathe each other in. 

"Good," he says into my neck, "now pass me the Prophet, I wanna see the article." 

Later, after hours of intensive interviews and diagnostic tests determining that Potter is of sound mind and body, he is finally discharged from St. Mungo’s. Granger and Weasley did stop by at some point during all of it to invite Potter -no, Harry- to stay with them, but he politely turned them down. He had then asked that all other visitors be told to wait until he is discharged to speak with him. He wants to see his friends, he explains, but right now there are more important things he needs to do. Things, he whispers feverishly in my ear when we are alone again in the hospital room, such as getting me into his bed. I shiver in delight. 

"Ready?" He asks me, as we stand holding hands in the apparition point of the hospital. 

"As I'll ever be." I answer. The importance of this very moment is not lost on me. 

With a pop, the world swirls with color and sound as we disapparate- together- for the very first time.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading!


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